


The Oswald Papers

by RobberBride



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Muggle, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Alternate Universe - Office, Corporate Espionage, Deliberately vague office setting, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, London, Mind Games, Not THAT Office, Slow Burn, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Workplace AU, kind of
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:47:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28486335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobberBride/pseuds/RobberBride
Summary: Hermione Granger has been suspicious of Tom Riddle since their first day at work. Her instincts prove correct when she finally catches him in the act. But Riddle isn't the only one with a secret. Will they be able to work together to achieve their goals or will one of them inevitably betray the other?
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle
Comments: 8
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

Hermione was staring at him again. Tom Riddle was leaning on the copy machine, dutifully ‘ooh’-ing and ‘ah’-ing as Lavender from accounts scrolled through photo after photo of her two-year-old daughter. Little Molly was adorable, to be sure, but Hermione didn’t believe the performance Riddle was giving for one second. 

“We’ve talked about this.” Ginny Weasley’s arrival snapped Hermione out of her reverie. “If you keep it up, Tom will think you’ve got a thing for him.”

Hermione glared at the redhead, who shot her a cheeky grin in return. The two had started on the same day – Hermione as an associate on the same team as Riddle and Ginny as Executive Assistant to the company’s CEO, Cornelius Fudge – and had quickly become close. 

“I don’t understand why you’re always so suspicious of him, Hermione,” continued Ginny. “He’s never been anything but perfectly pleasant and helpful to you and everyone else around here. It’s been six months. Time to let it go.”

“He sets me on edge. Don’t you see there’s something off about him?” 

“I think you might be letting your career ambitions cloud your judgement. You two get so competitive over every little thing. There’s nothing wrong with a bit of professional rivalry, but it doesn’t mean you can’t be friends. Or at least get along. Tom doesn’t seem to take it half as personally as you do. I just don’t see what reason you have to distrust him so much,” Ginny insisted. “I’m sure if you stopped looking at him as your enemy, you would see some of his good qualities.”

“Like what an excellent arse-kisser he is?” asked Hermione sarcastically.

“And how unbelievably gorgeous he is,” said Ginny with a wink. 

That much was true, Hermione had to admit. Riddle was nothing short of beautiful – almost too much so, with stylishly-cut wavy black hair, high cheekbones and perfect teeth. And those eyes, an impossibly dark green. Yet it was his eyes that made her wary. Tom Riddle’s eyes did not smile along with him.

\---

It was just after eight when Hermione clicked ‘send’ on her last email of the day. The office was deserted but for herself and Riddle. She listened for the clacking of his keyboard as she gathered her things quietly, waiting to see if he would notice her movements. He always seemed to know when she was about to leave and insisted on going at the same time. It was unnerving, to say the least. 

“I really must be going,” Hermione said quickly, already walking away. 

Riddle didn’t even look up from his computer. Strange. Hermione halted mid-stride and looked back at him. 

“Should I wait for you, or-” 

“No need. I have a few things I need to finish. Have a good evening, Hermione.”

“You too, Riddle,” Hermione replied curtly before heading to the lifts. 

She rode down to the lobby but, once there, didn’t exit the building. Not once in the six months she had been there had Riddle stayed later than her. In fact, it was as though he never wanted her to be in the office alone. He must be planning something tonight. She finally had him.

Hermione paced through the lobby, quickly formulating a plan. She waited a few minutes before taking the lift up to the floor below hers and crept up the stairs to the next landing. The stairwell she’d chosen let out into the kitchen area, where she was sure Riddle wouldn’t be. From there, she took the long way around to their work area. Only the emergency lights were on, giving her the cover of relative darkness.

She stopped just around the corner from where Riddle should be, listening for any hint that he might be at his desk. After a few minutes of silence, she tentatively poked her head out from behind the wall. Hermione was about to venture further in when she saw him come out of Cornelius Fudge’s office. Hermione followed him at a careful distance, pausing at every corner to ensure the way was clear. 

As Riddle headed into the copy room, she spotted a red file folder in his hand. Not long after, Hermione could hear the xerox machine processing what sounded like a few dozen sheets of paper. She wondered if she could go back to the machine later and somehow see what he’d been copying. Or, even better, get her hands on the originals. He would have to put them back so Fudge wouldn’t know they were missing.

Sneaking a quick look into the copy room to make sure Riddle was occupied, Hermione made her way to Fudge’s office and looked for a place to hide. Under the desk seemed too obvious and the curtains were too short to hide her feet. There was a large black cabinet near the window with just enough space behind it so that she could crouch comfortably and stay out of view. She did just that and waited.

After what felt like much too long for her poor legs, Hermione heard the door open and Riddle’s muffled footsteps on the carpet. She closed her eyes to focus on the sounds he made. First, a drawer opening; then, the rustling of papers. Now, silence. 

“Spying, are we?” Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin, praying that Riddle’s question wasn’t addressed to her. “I know you’re in here, Hermione. I can smell your perfume.”

Perfume? She never wore perfume. It must be her shampoo – she’d have to remember to switch to a less fragrant one. Anyway, the game was up. Hermione stood up and slowly walked out from behind the cabinet, giving a stern-faced Tom Riddle her best wide-eyed look. 

“I- no, I just forgot my… phone. So I came back for it. And then I thought I saw a light in here and I…” She trailed off as Riddle turned around to shut the door.

“No need to lie.” He turned back toward her, blocking her way out. Hermione noticed he was holding a rolled-up stack of papers. “I know you’ve been watching me since your first day here.”

“For good reason, evidently,” Hermione retorted, dropping her feigned look of surprise. “What are you, then – a corporate thief? A blackmailer? What is it you’re looking for, exactly?”

Riddle ignored her questions, slowly stepping closer and closer until that he was practically looming over her. “I could ask you the same thing. You’re the one lurking in the dark – in our CEO’s office, no less.” 

“Don’t try to turn this around on me, Riddle. I saw you making copies of whatever was in that file folder. If you think I’ll let you walk out of here with those, you’re dreaming.”

Hermione snatched the roll of papers from his hand and made to run but Riddle caught her by the wrist, causing the papers to scatter to the floor. He dragged her back to the black cabinet, pinning her against it. 

“I’m afraid I can’t let you leave until we resolve this little misunderstanding.” Riddle gripped her wrist a little tighter as Hermione tried to wrench it out of his grasp. “I wouldn’t want you telling anyone what you think you saw and giving our charming colleagues the wrong idea about me.”

Hermione’s nostrils flared. “There’s no misunderstanding here. And the people who work here – the people who think you’re their friend – deserve to know what you’re really like.”

“You think you know me so well, don’t you? I suppose you must, since you’ve been watching my every move. I’m almost flattered.” His face twisted into a grotesque version of a smile. “Tell me, then, what am I really like?”

Hermione straightened up and looked him in the eyes. “You’ve managed to fool everyone with your perfect manners and your practiced smiles. You’re so good at pretending. But I’ve seen the way your eyes go cold when you think no one is watching.”

His smile faded and he looked furious now, but Hermione continued. “You think you’re better than everyone, that you deserve more than others. You think you’re smarter, too. That you’re infallible. You would do anything to get what you want – and I’m afraid of what that could mean.”

Riddle leaned in so that his face was mere inches from hers, his whole body pressing against her. “Are you afraid right now?”

“Should I be?” Hermione answered with as much coolness as she could muster. 

Riddle looked at her as though truly contemplating the question. 

“I’d like you to be,” he answered in a low voice that Hermione knew she should be threatened by – though that wasn’t the effect it was having just now. “Just a little. Just enough so that you won’t do something stupid like tell anyone about tonight.” 

Hermione had to bend her head back to look at him as she spoke. “That’s unfortunate for you, then, because I’ve decided you’re not worth being afraid of,” she said boldly. “What are you going to do? Kill me? If anything happens to me, security will look at the key-card logs and see that you and I are the only ones up here right now. That wouldn’t look too good for you, would it? But you know all that. So, again, what could you possibly do to me?”

Riddle released her wrist but kept her trapped against the cabinet. He was breathing heavily and looked as though he’d been slapped. Hermione had never seen him so discomposed, his eyes wildly searching her own. For one wild moment, she was convinced he was about to kiss her. Warmth pooled below her belly at the thought. 

Without a warning, Riddle backed away and bolted from the room. Hermione leapt to follow him but thought better of it when she realized he’d left the stolen information behind. She watched him run out of sight and, shortly after, heard a faint ding from the direction of the lifts. She had expected him to take the stairs, but she supposed he had to keep up appearances for the security cameras. 

Satisfied that he was gone, she bent down to gather the papers that had fallen to the floor. She picked up a sheet and turned it over. Then another. She looked at the white sheets of paper spread out around her. Every single one of them was blank.


	2. Chapter 2

On the tube ride home, Hermione frantically tried to unpack what had just happened between her and Riddle. She still had no idea what he’d been up to with those files. And why were the papers he’d been holding blank? She thought back to when she was standing outside the copy room – she had heard the originals going in and the copies coming out. They had to be somewhere. Had he known she was there sooner than he led her to believe and stashed away the documents before she could find them? 

Hermione had seen him snatch his jacket from his chair after he ran away from her, but it had no pockets big enough to fit anything other than his phone… she hated that she knew that. She remembered the way he had pressed up against her and how she’d felt the heat of his chest through his crisp white shirt. She would have noticed if he’d hidden anything under there. 

Groaning in frustration, Hermione buried her head in her hands. She shifted her focus to what Riddle had said to her. He seemed really intent on preserving his reputation among their colleagues. That must mean he planned on coming back, perhaps so he could break into Fudge’s office again. The longer she thought about it, the more convinced Hermione was that he must have left empty-handed. Although that still didn’t explain the blank pages. 

The ding from the carriage doors snapped Hermione out of her daze just in time for her to realize this was her stop. She leapt up and just managed to make it out before the doors closed. 

\---

Hermione’s flat was dark when she got home, which was unusual as she’d left the living room lamp on a timer for her cat, Crookshanks. She supposed the lightbulb could have burned out. Still, she entered cautiously. 

“Crooks?” she called out. There was no sign of him. 

She assumed he’d gone out onto the fire escape through the window she always left open for him. She went to check but found said window shut. She turned around, intending to turn on the lights, but froze mid-step. Tom Riddle was sitting on her sofa with a tumbler of scotch in his hand. She noticed the newly open bottle on the table in front of him. Damn him, she’d been saving that one!

“Stupid move, putting your real name and address on a form for a company you’re only pretending to work for.” He tipped the full contents of the glass into his mouth. “Nice scotch, by the way. Very smooth.”

“How- how did you get in here?” Hermione sputtered.

“I took a cab straight here. Your building has no cameras, no key-cards, no security of any kind. It’s the ideal place to finish our conversation.”

“What’s there left to talk about?” Hermione asked, choosing to ignore his thorough analysis of her building’s inadequacies. “I caught you breaking into Fudge’s office. There’s no good explanation for something like that.”

“I think you’ll find that there is.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. “Alright, I suppose I can let you explain. And afterward, I’ll tell you if I believe you.” 

“Sit, won’t you?” Riddle motioned to the empty space on the sofa.

“It’s my flat. I’ll stand if I want to.” Hermione crossed her arms and stared expectantly at Riddle. “Well? Get on with it.”

“Let me be clear,” Riddle said with a cold smile. “I will be honest with you as long as you will be honest with me. Can you do that, Hermione?”

She scoffed. “When have I ever been dishonest?”

“Let’s start with the fact that you don’t really work for Fudge.” 

Hermione’s countenance darkened. She chose to say nothing for the moment but sat down opposite Riddle.

“When you first joined the team, I immediately noticed something off about you. You were too observant, too attentive to everything around you. And so intent on getting into Fudge’s good graces,” Riddle continued. “Before your first day was even over, I looked into you. Do you know what I found? Nothing.”

“What exactly are you getting at?” 

“There’s not a trace of you anywhere on the internet. If you’re trying to conceal your past, it’s better to plant a few false leads. Just a tip, since you’re obviously new to this.” Riddle filled a clean glass with scotch and handed it to her. She took it but didn’t drink. 

“New to what, exactly?”

“Espionage,” he replied simply, pouring more amber liquid into his own glass. “You are spying on Fudge, aren’t you?”

“As are you, evidently.”

“Brilliantly deduced,” Riddle said with such condescension that she considered chucking her glass at him. “I believe we’re both looking for the same information – though likely for very different reasons. Was that Albus Dumbledore you were talking to outside the Shipwrights Arms three weeks ago? You really should be more careful, meeting with the editor of the Times in broad daylight. Anyone could have seen you.” He flashed her an insolent grin. 

“Dumbledore has never been kind to Fudge in his paper. I don’t believe he’s ever been able to uncover anything unlawful, but I gather he’s always had his suspicions. And now he’s sent you to find irrefutable evidence of Fudge’s misdeeds so that he can finally expose him to the public. I wager he’s promised you a good position writing for the Times in exchange.”

The blood drained from Hermione’s face. She didn’t think he knew quite that much. 

“Correct me if I’m wrong," Riddle said, swirling the amber liquid in his glass. 

Hermione pressed her lips together but the triumphant glint in Riddle’s eyes told her he already knew the answer. Averting her gaze from him, she took a long sip of her scotch and thought about how she ended up in this situation. She’d completely forgotten about her address the form. It shouldn’t have been an issue at all, but she hadn’t counted on Tom Riddle. 

She had made other mistakes, too, as he’d been eager to point out. She’d picked Shipwrights as a meeting place because it was on the other side of the river from their office and usually full of tourists and commuters. It would have been unlikely anyone would pay them much notice, but Riddle had been watching her more closely than she thought. And the shampoo! He’d known she was in Fudge’s office simply from her smell. She wasn’t a real spy, after all, just an ambitious young journalist. Riddle was obviously more experienced at this. 

Hermione downed the rest of her scotch and looked back at Riddle. “You seem to know a lot about my recent activities, but you still haven’t told me what you were doing with Fudge’s files.”

“What makes you think I will?” 

“You said you’d be honest with me if I did the same.”

“Would you say you’ve been honest? You simply confirmed what I already suspected. By that measure, I’ve told you more than enough to consider us even.”

Hermione was too interested in the developments of the past few minutes to argue about semantics, so she plowed on. “You seem convinced we’re both after the same information. And you’re here, instead of wherever you would be if you had actually found what you were looking for. So I’m guessing you’re about to suggest we work together. I might be willing to consider it, but only if you tell me exactly what you’re after and why.”

“You might be better at spying than I thought,” Riddle said, smiling in earnest this time. “Although you did miss one crucial detail.”

He paused as though expecting her to ask what that was, but she refused to humour him, so he continued. “The papers I was holding tonight were blank…”

“I noticed as much, funnily enough,” Hermione interrupted. “I’m not quite as daft as you seem to think.”

Riddle, who’d been sipping slowly from his scotch, put the glass down and leaned toward her. “What you did not notice, however, is that the file folder I took wasn’t from a locked drawer. Do you really think Fudge wouldn’t safeguard the kind of information we’re looking for?”

“What was in that file then?”

“Your performance review.” Riddle looked immensely pleased with himself. “Not exactly a thrilling read, so I didn’t see a reason to make actual copies.”

Hermione snorted. “Why the need for the charade with the xerox machine, then?” 

“I’d suspected you weren’t what you seemed for some time now. Why do you think I never allowed you to be in the office alone? Certainly not because I enjoy your company. I stayed behind tonight to see if you would come back and confirm my theory. I needed to be sure.”

“Why didn’t you just steal the files on your first day? You could have disappeared before I suspected anything.”

“It’s a bit more complicated than that. Do you remember that black cabinet in Fudge’s office, the one by the window? That’s where he keeps those files, and it can only be opened using a key that Fudge keeps on his person at all times. I tried to pick the lock one day on the off-chance it would work, but I quickly realized it was impossible.”

“How did you learn about that key? I’ve been watching him for- well, for as long as you have, and I’ve never seen or heard of it. Not even Ginny knows about it and she knows everything about Fudge!”

“While you’ve been wasting your time becoming bosom friends with his assistant, I made sure to stop for a friendly chat with the accounts team at least once a day. They have the best view into Fudge’s office. 

“He leaves his door open often enough for someone who has many things to hide. I’d wager he thinks it’s more conspicuous to close it. I’ve seen him use that key a few times, when he thought no one was looking. It’s always in the left inside pocket of his jacket.”

“Why haven’t you tried to take it from him when he’s at home?”

“Do you really think that hasn’t crossed my mind? He lives in a gated community with cameras covering the entire perimeter. Not to mention the security measures inside the house itself. There’s no way in or out without being caught. And I can’t just knock him out on the street and take the key. He can’t suspect any foul play.”

“What’s your plan, then?”

“I’ve only ever seen Fudge take his jacket off when he orders lunch from the Thai place around the corner – he always gets his tom yum extra spicy and it makes him sweat like a pig. I happen to know he orders it every Wednesday, which, as luck would have it, is tomorrow.”

Something told Hermione it wasn’t just luck. 

“If you can find an excuse to go into Fudge’s office and take the key, I can have it copied and bring it back before he leaves,” Riddle continued. “He would never even know it was gone.”

“I’m not complaining that you want to include me, but couldn’t you have carried this plan out alone?”

“Not with you watching me like a hawk every second of the day. You’ve never even taken sick leave. And I do think this will work better if you’re the one to take they key. You look much more innocent than I do – and it doesn’t hurt that you’re a woman. You know how distracted Fudge gets when a pretty young lady happens to be nearby.” Riddle raised an eyebrow suggestively. 

“Lovely.” Hermione shuddered at the thought of flirting with Fudge. “Come to think of it, I did see him drop his pen, once, when Katie Bell walked by wearing a short dress. This might actually work.”

“Does that mean you’ll do it?” 

“You still haven’t told me why you’re after this information. If you want me to work with you, I need to know who you answer to and what they want to do with that information.”

“Who says I’m working for anyone?” 

“If you’re going to keep playing these games with me, you might as well get out of my flat right now.”

“Very well, but keep in mind this needs to stay off the record forever. Don’t get any ideas about writing a profile on me or my employer once you’re a world-famous journalist,” Riddle said with a lightly taunting smile. 

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You have my word.”

“Have you heard of a man named Gellert Grindelwald?” Hermione shook her head. “You wouldn’t have. Decades ago, he was one of the richest men in the country, but Fudge ran him out of business and he became a recluse. To listen to Fudge, it was just the free market at work – but he used some shady tactics. 

“Grindelwald’s not exactly destitute now, but he’s not nearly as wealthy and powerful as he used to be. He wants to take Fudge down, to show him what it’s like to lose everything. Once he gets his hands on the evidence, he’s going to drain him of hundreds of millions of pounds and leave him with nothing. The fact that Dumbledore plans to expose Fudge to the world is simply a bonus – I haven’t even told him about that. It’ll be a nice surprise.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes. “So Grindelwald wants to blackmail him. Correct me if I’m wrong, Riddle, but it sounds like you’re about to ask me to convince Dumbledore to hold on to extremely important information so your employer can commit a crime. He’ll never agree to that.”

“I have no doubt he won’t. I’m asking you to refrain from sharing it until Grindelwald gets the money. It shouldn’t take more than a week. After that, you’re free to share the evidence with Dumbledore. This way, everyone gets what they want. And, before you make your decision, consider that you’d also be committing a crime to get this information – no matter how noble you think your intentions are.”

Hermione took a deep breath. “Why are you telling me all this? How do I know I can trust you?”

“Because we both want the same thing. And because we both have much to lose if this goes badly. Do you think Dumbledore will let you write for his paper if you get caught before you can provide him with proof of Fudge’s corruption? You won’t be able to find another job in journalism as long as you live. As for me, I’ll face rather more dire consequences if I fail. But it won’t come to that.”

Hermione thought about what he’d said. It was a lot to take in, but Riddle seemed to be telling the truth. She had to admit that working with him would be her best chance at success. Grindelwald may be mainly after Fudge’s wealth, but seeing his rival’s reputation suffer would surely be a welcome bonus. And if Fudge would almost certainly go to prison once he’d been exposed by Dumbledore. 

She turned to Riddle with a look of steely determination. “Very well, let’s do this.”


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione’s stomach growled loudly, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten anything since lunchtime. She felt a bit woozy from the scotch, but it was balanced by her excitement at the prospect of getting her hands on those coveted files after months of waiting for an opportunity. 

She and Riddle had spent the last two hours discussing their plan to ensure it was seamless. After Fudge finished his lunch, they would take turns walking by his office under a number of pretexts. Once one of them saw he had taken off his coat, Hermione would go in pretending she needed his help and steal the key. 

Riddle would be waiting for her, ready to take the key to a locksmith while Fudge had his weekly meeting with the accounts team. When he came back, he would visit Fudge in his office, place the key on the floor and pretend Fudge had dropped it. It was a simple plan, but it hinged on perfect timing and coordination between the two of them. 

Hermione yawned and looked at the clock – it was nearly midnight. Riddle seemed to get the hint and got up and walked to the door. Hermione followed, trying not to fall over from dizziness and exhaustion.

“I should warn you that I don’t make it a habit to work with others. But then I’ve never had anyone be as much of a pain in my arse as you have, so it seems I don’t have a choice,” Riddle said, offering Hermione his hand.

She shook it and took a moment to look up at him. She would later blame the scotch, but in that moment she thought about what it would be like to kiss him. She’d known from the beginning that there was something dangerous in him. Now that she knew exactly what it was, it made him strangely appealing. 

“You can let go of my hand now, Hermione.” Riddle’s eyes glowed with amusement, as though he knew precisely what she was thinking.

Blushing, Hermione opened the door for him. “See you at the office,” she muttered as she ushered him out.

Riddle gave a curt nod in return. Despite practically slamming the door after him, she could have sworn she saw him look back as he made his way down the corridor. 

\---

Hermione awoke to a scratching noise at her window. Opening one eye, she saw Crookshanks pawing at the wooden windowsill, desperate to be let in. She leapt out of bed and opened the window. 

“Crooks! I’m so sorry!” She picked him up and patted at his fur. He was dry, which thankfully meant it hadn’t rained last night. “I completely forgot open the window for you after that prick closed it just to scare me.” She snuggled him, making a mental note to smack Riddle across the head for this later. 

Crookshanks wriggled out of her grasp and ran straight to his food bowl. Hermione watched him guiltily for a few minutes. Seeing that he was perfectly alright, she turned her attention to getting ready for the day ahead and ran through her mental checklist. She knew what she had to do. It was simple… in theory.

\---

Riddle was already at his desk when she arrived at the office. “Good morning, Hermione.” His eyes flicked to her for a millisecond before going back to his computer screen. 

“Good morning, Riddle,” she replied in the stiff tone she usually reserved for him, sending a subtle grin his way.

The first half of the day passed much too slowly for Hermione’s taste. She spent some time talking to Ginny to see if she could learn anything useful, but she couldn’t ask many questions without stirring up suspicion. 

The rest of the morning was spent catching up on paperwork as she couldn’t be bothered with anything else. She had, so far, performed her job well for the sake of her mission, but the work itself was far from thrilling. 

Just past noon, Hermione saw Ginny enter Fudge’s office with a bag from Thai Pot. They had about ten minutes until Fudge inhaled his lunch and started sweating like a pig. She kicked Riddle under the desk, earning a scowl and a subtle nod from him. He rose and strolled to accounts to take his post by Dean Thomas’ desk, where he had a clear view of Fudge. 

Hermione avoided looking up at Riddle, but she could hear him making idle conversation with Dean. She closed her eyes and tried to drown out the sounds around her, listening instead to her own breathing. She was ridiculously nervous about what had to come next. 

When she had agreed to go undercover for Dumbledore, she told him she was prepared to break a few rules. She thought that would mean sneaking into the office after dark and stealing a few documents. Stealing Fudge’s key while he was in the room with her was a much scarier prospect. If she was caught, she wouldn’t get a second chance. 

Hermione felt a hand on her shoulder and nearly jumped from her seat, covering her mouth to avoid letting a yelp escape. 

Riddle bent down so that his mouth was right next to her ear. “His jacket is off and hanging on the back of his chair,” he whispered. Hermione made to get up but Riddle pushed her back down, squeezing her shoulders with both hands. “Wait a minute before you go in.” 

Hermione noticed Seamus Finnegan watching them curiously from a few desks away. Her cheeks reddened and she angled away from Riddle, waving him back to his seat. Not giving herself time to overthink it, she swept a file folder off her desktop and walked resolutely towards Fudge’s office.

The door was open, but Hermione knocked and waited for an answer. Fudge looked up from his computer.

“Hermione, hello! Come in, come in.” He waved her inside. “What can I do for you?”

Hermione plastered on her best smile. “Hello, Mr. Fudge-”

“Cornelius, please.”

“Cornelius, of course. I was wondering if you had a moment to sign these expense reports.” She walked around to Fudge’s side of the desk and opened the file folder. “I’m afraid I’m submitting them a little late, so I was hoping to have them expedited, if possible.” Hermione bent down under the pretense of pointing to the dates on the reports, giving Fudge a view straight down her blouse. 

“I, uh, yes – I can do it straight away…” The tips of Fudge’s ears reddened and he was suddenly very interested in looking only at the forms he was signing. She took the opportunity to feel the outside of the jacket draped across the back of his chair. She found the key in the corner nearest to her and carefully flipped the edge of the jacket to access a small interior pocket. It had a zipper, which she undid slowly enough to avoid making any sound. She almost had it.

Fudge cleared his throat. “Will that be all, Hermione?” She realized she was almost pressed up against him in her determination to get the key. 

Hermione backed up slightly and pretended to be flustered. “Yes- I mean, no. I just need your stamp so these can be fast-tracked.” 

“Ah, of course. Coming right up.” He reached into his left-hand drawer for the stamp. Hermione took the opportunity to extract the key and slip it in her skirt pocket. Fudge stamped each form, closed the folder and handed it back to Hermione in silence. 

“Thank you, Cornelius. I really appreciate your help.” Hermione gave him her sweetest smile and Fudge turned nearly purple. She heard him mutter something that sounded vaguely like ‘my pleasure’ as she backed out of the room.

Forcing herself to walk at a normal pace, Hermione went straight to Riddle’s desk. Under the pretense of showing him what was in the file folder, she took out the key and discretely placed it in his shirt pocket. Once she was back at her own desk, Riddle left under the pretense of getting lunch. 

Hermione tried to keep busy with paperwork but found herself staring at the time on her computer screen instead. Fifteen minutes passed, then thirty, then an hour. After an hour and forty minutes, she started to worry. What was taking Riddle so long? He was supposed to have been back already. She was starting to suspect it wasn’t a run-of-the-mill locksmith he was using to copy the key. 

Hermione looked up in time to see Fudge leaving his office for the accounts meeting – he was wearing the jacket. Restlessly chewing at her lip, she watched him disappear towards the meeting room. She couldn’t even send Riddle a message to ask why he wasn’t back in time; they’d agreed: only in-person communication. 

Over two hours after he had left, Riddle finally exited the lift and made his way straight to her. 

“Well?” Hermione asked breathlessly. 

“It’s done.” Riddle opened his palm to reveal the original silver key and a duller replica.

Hermione signed in relief. “It’s about time you’re here. You won’t be able to put the real one back right now, though. He’s got the jacket on.” 

Riddle frowned slightly. “No matter. We’ll find another opportunity. Leave it to m-”

“Ginevra!” Fudge shouted from his office, and Ginny hurried in. “Have you seen a small silver key? I seem to have misplaced it.” Hermione froze. 

“I haven’t, but I can look. Where did you last have it?” asked Ginny. 

“In my jacket pocket. It must have fallen out. It’s important that you find it, it’s… for my locker at the gym. I’m going there later, so I absolutely must have it back.” If she’d been less stressed, Hermione might have laughed. A gym was the last place she could imagine Fudge. 

“I’ll see if anyone’s turned it in to reception. If not, I’ll have a look around the whole office,” Ginny said, setting off toward the front desk.

This gave Hermione an idea. She plucked a document from the cabinet without looking at it and walked over to Riddle’s desk. 

“Hey Riddle, can you double-check the date on this? I’m not sure it’s right,” she said at a normal volume, then leaned over his chair and whispered. “Give me the real key. Fudge has realized it’s missing.”  
Riddle frowned. “What are you going to do?”

“He’s sent Ginny to look for it. She’s at reception at the moment, where we know she won’t find it, then she’s planning on searching the entire floor. If you give me the key right now, I can place it outside the meeting room he was in earlier. Ginny will find it during her sweep and Fudge will think it fell out there.” Hermione noticed Riddle’s eyes were focused on something to their right. “Hello? Are you listening?”

Riddle suddenly gripped the back of her thigh and pulled her between his legs. 

“What are you doing?” Hermione squeaked at him.

“Finnegan is watching us. Put your right hand on my desk.” Hermione hesitated. “Now.”

Hermione did as she was told, leaning awkwardly to the side and resting her hand on Riddle’s desktop. Keeping his left hand on her leg, he placed the other one over hers and caressed it softly while simultaneously slipping the silver key between two of her fingers. 

“Now give our spectator something to talk about and go plant this before Ginevra gets to that hallway,” he said, giving her a warm smile and gazing into her eyes with feigned adoration. 

Hermione locked eyes with Seamus Finnegan and backed away from Riddle with as much embarrassment as she could evoke. “Thank you for clearing that up, Riddle,” she said more loudly than necessary. “I’d better go put this back.”

Hermione walked unhurriedly to the filing cabinet, knowing Seamus was likely still watching her. After she replaced the document, she turned the corner and, ensuring no one could see, dropped the key against the wall right next to the room in which the accounts meeting had been held. Upon seeing the shiny silver key laying on the ground, she realized she had never taken a good look at it. It was much less sophisticated than she’d expected, with not nearly as many teeth and indents as most high-security keys she had seen. 

Before she could better examine the key, approaching voices chased her away. Continuing down the hallway to the ladies’ room, she hid in there for a few minutes before retracing her steps. The key was still on the floor, but she could see Ginny examining the area around Fudge’s office. This likely meant she would be coming this way next. 

“Alright, Ginny?” Hermione asked as she passed her.

Ginny smiled. “Yep. Just looking for something. You haven’t seen a small silver key anywhere, have you?”

“No, sorry. Good luck finding it!” 

When Hermione sat back down at her cubicle, she kicked Riddle under the desk again. 

“Can’t say I’m thrilled with this method of getting my attention,” he said in a low voice from behind the short wall that separated them. 

“Would you rather I throw something?” She craned her neck to look at him. “It’s your turn to go stand in that corner. It’ll be too suspicious if I go back. We need to know how Fudge reacts when Ginny brings him the key.”

Riddle got up without a word and took his position, making a convincing pantomime of looking through the filing cabinet for an elusive file. Hermione opened a binder on her desk at random and pretended to read, forcing herself not to look up and see what was happening.

What felt like a good hour later, but was only eight minutes according to the clock, she felt a kick to her shin. “Ow!” 

“Not so amusing when you’re on the receiving end, is it?” Riddle drawled from behind her computer. 

Hermione gave him a dirty look, leaning across her desk to whisper. “Well? Did he get the key back? Did he seem suspicious?”

“Ginevra found in the corridor and returned it to him. I don’t think he suspected anything. He sounded extremely relieved to have it back – said some nonsense about going to the gym.” 

Hermione snorted at that. “He’s not a very good liar for someone who has so much to hide. Speaking of which, when are we coming back for the-”

Riddle held a finger to his lips. She saw him scribble on a piece of paper before sliding it across to her. 

All it said was: Tonight.


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn’t until nearly seven thirty that everyone else went home. Hermione had resigned herself to doing actual work to pass away the time, though her constant fidgeting gave away her nerves. Riddle, meanwhile, seemed far too composed for someone who was about to get what he wanted after many months of planning and waiting.

Once they were certain they were alone, the pair entered Fudge’s office and approached the cabinet holding all the secrets they would soon get their hands on. Riddle produced the newly-minted key and offered it to Hermione. She took it, hands shaking lightly, and inserted it into a keyhole at the very top of the cabinet.

Riddle watched intently as Hermione rotated they key all the way around until it produced a distinct click. But when she pulled on the top drawer, nothing happened. She removed the key and repeated the process. Again. And again. And again.

“I don’t understand – why isn’t it working?” Hermione asked, exasperated. “You give it a try, Riddle.”

Riddle, seemingly unperturbed, took the key from her but did not try the same keyhole again. Instead, he pried open a panel in the middle of the cabinet to reveal a small keypad and a tray perfectly molded to the shape of they key (the top of which, she now noticed, resembled a bowler hat). He placed the key into the tray and entered the digits ‘62442’ into the keypad. 

“I think you’ll find it easier to open now,” he said finally.

Hermione, whose indignation had bubbled up and boiled over as she watched him do all this, whacked the side of his head hard with the nearest available object – in this case, a rolled up copy of the previous day’s newspaper. 

“Explain yourself,” she said through gritted teeth. 

Riddle let out a deep, hearty chuckle. “I needed to ensure you wouldn’t be tempted to run off with the files without me. The key contains a digital signature – that hole at the top of the cabinet is just a decoy. As I may have mentioned, I’ve seen him use it a few times by now.”

“And you couldn’t have shared that information with me earlier?” Hermione huffed. “I’m surprised you even trusted me to hold on to the key.”

“You had the key. I had the code. It seemed fitting that we each held one piece of the puzzle.”

“Yes, about that code – how exactly did you get it?” Hermione asked, glaring at Riddle as though the act alone would put a hole through him. 

“Through months of careful observation. And many hours spent listening to Dean Thomas go on about football,” he admitted with a grimace. 

“The punishment fits the crime, then,” Hermione said dryly, suppressing a hint of a smile. “Very well, I suppose we should get to work. If you’re done with the surprises, that is.”

Riddle rolled his eyes but abstained from further antagonizing her. They diligently sifted through every file, noting each one’s location and placing them in orderly piles. In the copy room, they took turns photographing then duplicating each document before carefully replacing it in its respective folder. 

“I can’t believe we’ve done it,” Hermione said a bit breathily as they walked back from the copy room an hour later. She kept patting her bookbag as though the copies would fly out of it on their own. “Did it seem too easy to you? I can’t believe we’re getting away with this.”

“Don’t worry, something could still go wrong,” Riddle said flatly – though she spied a slight smile from the corner of her eye. 

Once they reached Fudge’s office, Riddle stopped in front of the door so suddenly that Hermione almost collided with him. 

“Give me the files,” he said, extending a hand. “You stay here and act as lookout while I put them back.”

“Absolutely not.” Hermione clutched her half of the files against her chest. “We didn’t need a lookout when we took them out – why would we need one now? What exactly are you planning?”

Riddle chuckled. “Still don’t trust me, Hermione? I thought I’d already proven you have nothing to worry about. I’d simply like to take extra precaution now that we actually have the copies in hand.”

“You stay here and act as lookout and I’ll put the files back, then.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Still don’t trust me, Riddle?” Hermione mimicked his earlier tone. 

“Point taken. We’ll keep the lights off and leave the door ajar.”

They slipped back into Fudge’s office and set about putting each document in its correct place, quickly establishing a two-person assembly line. 

“This is the last one,” Hermione said, handing Riddle a folder marked ‘Zabini, B.’ He filed it away, shut the drawer and entered the same code from earlier into the keypad. Once all was securely in place, they checked they hadn’t left anything behind and made to leave.

Riddle was about to open the door when Hermione gripped his arm, yanking him back.

“What the-”

“Shh,” Hermione whispered. “Do you hear that?”

Faint music was playing somewhere nearby. Hermione brushed by Riddle and peeked through the crack in the door. 

“It’s the cleaning woman – she’s early. And she’s coming this way.” Hermione turned to Riddle, eyes wide. “We have to hide.”

“I don’t see where. Unless you want to try behind the sofa again?” 

Hermione glared at him. “You know she always cleans his office first. That means we have about twenty seconds before she barges in here and finds us.” 

Riddle didn’t seem to be paying attention. He was looking through her, as though lost in thought. The music was getting louder as each second passed.

“Please keep in mind that this is strictly business,” he said suddenly, kicking both of their bags into a corner and picking Hermione up by the waist. She yelped as he practically threw her down on Fudge’s desk. 

“What are-” Hermione’s words were swallowed by Riddle’s mouth covering hers. He was gentle at first, giving her time to understand what was happening before capturing her bottom lip and sucking hard enough to leave it swollen. Hermione let out a half-pained moan. 

Still kissing her, Riddle started undoing the buttons on her blouse then moved her hands to his shirt, urging her to do the same to him. He ran a large hand through her curls and she retaliated by mussing his up and loosening his tie for good measure.

Just as he started pushing up her skirt, the door swung open and Hermione was faced with a red-faced woman pushing a cleaning cart. The intruder gasped, but the sound was buried under the climax of Madonna’s Like a Prayer. 

Hermione cleared her throat and grabbed hold of Riddle’s hand, stopping its progress along her thigh. She pushed him off her and awkwardly hopped off the desk before adjusting her clothes. She was sure she looked as guilty as she felt. Riddle, meanwhile, turned to their spectator with a perfectly sheepish smile.

The woman turned off the music and cleared her throat. “What, exactly, are you doing in Mr. Fudge’s office?” she asked in a high-pitched voice, with a tone befitting a schoolteacher.   
“I’m sorry, miss…” Riddle started. 

“Umbridge. Dolores Umbridge,” supplied the woman. 

“I’m sorry, Dolores, that you had to witness this unseemly display,” continued Riddle. He put his arm around Hermione, drawing her into his side. “My girlfriend and I were celebrating her promotion and we got a bit… carried away. It was my idea to come in here – it’s the only space up here with a solid door. Surely you understand.”

“I most certainly do not understand. Mr. Fudge has personally instructed me to tell him if I ever see anything out of the ordinary in his office. You can believe he’ll hear about this.”

Riddle’s smile vanished and Hermione held her breath, squirming in his grasp. “Whatever he’s paying you, I’ll give you double,” he said bluntly, before sweetening his tone again. “It’s just that it’s been so hard, hiding our relationship from our colleagues. This was just a little slip-up. I promise we won’t go into Mr. Fudge’s office again.”

Umbridge narrowed her eyes. “I’ve seen you two, you know. Staying late, night after night. Giving each other those looks.” Hermione was about to protest but Riddle squeezed her shoulder. “I suppose I could look the other way. For five hundred pounds.”

Hermione’s eyes bulged out but Riddle seemed unphased. “I don’t have it on me, obviously,” he said.

“Leave it in an envelope with my name on it, care of Argus Filch at the building management office. If it’s not there by ten tomorrow morning, I’ll assume you want me to speak to Mr. Fudge about what you two have been up to.”

Riddle nodded and Umbridge backed out of the room, giving them one last look. “I’ll start with the kitchen. Make sure you’re gone by the time I come back this way or I might change my mind.”   
As soon as Umbridge closed the door on them, Hermione rounded on Riddle.

“That was the best you could come up with?” she practically shouted. “To… to… snog me and bribe the cleaning woman? What if she doesn’t keep her word? Or worse, keeps blackmailing you after this?”

“I didn’t hear you offer any clever solutions. Besides, I think you rather enjoyed yourself judging by the little noises you were making.” Riddle was looking at her intently and Hermione felt her cheeks flush. “And I don’t think we’ll have worry about her once the truth about Fudge comes out. Neither of us will be working here much longer anyway.”

“Fine.” Hermione turned away from him and bent down to pick up her bag from the corner. “Let’s go before that horrid woman comes back.”

\---

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Hermione asked.

“It’s evidence. We have to get rid of it.”

They were standing on the Waterloo bridge, huddled close together. To any passer-by, they would have looked like a couple in the middle of an intimate moment. 

“What if someone finds it?” Hermione insisted.

“Better they find it at the bottom of the Thames, not knowing what it’s for.” Riddle reached into his coat pocked and pulled out the replica key. 

“Put it away,” Hermione whispered harshly. He settled for closing his fist around it. 

“Fudge has connections and money – for now. As soon as he gets that call from Grindelwald, he’ll try to find some leverage. He would do anything to keep his wealth and his reputation. That includes covertly searching the homes of every single one of his employees. Better that key not be found in yours. Or at all.”

“Very well. Let me do it.” She held her hand out and Riddle dropped the key into her palm. After looking around to ensure no one saw, she flicked it into the water below. They both watched it disappear under the surface and leaned into the stone wall, silently staring into the blackness below.

“Hermione, about that kiss…” Riddle said after some time, still looking straight ahead.

“Strictly business, I know,” she said, trying to sound casual. “It was quick thinking on your part.”

Riddle turned to her. They were still pressed close together, so she could feel his breath on her hair. “We need to do it again.”

Hermione whipped her head toward him so fast she heard the bones in her neck crack.

“Tomorrow. Where someone will see – someone who is likely to tell others about it,” he continued. Hermione looked at him quizzically. “We need to start the rumours now, before Grindelwald contacts Fudge. I’d like our simple-minded colleagues to focus only on our supposed romance, should any of them be questioned about either of us.”

“Questioned? Do you think that’s likely?” Hermione was now deliberately looking anywhere but at him. 

“It’s best to be prepared for any eventuality.” Riddle reached for her face and gently turned it back toward him. He tucked a curl behind her ear and she noticed his eyes flit downwards for a fraction of a second. “Unless you find kissing me unpleasant?”

Hermione involuntarily leaned into him before straightening up, flustered. “No… I… it’s-” She spotted a flash of emerald green out of the corner of her eye. Her gaze focused on a familiar bowler hat bobbing past them and down the bridge. 

She looked back at Riddle with a mix of amazement and supreme annoyance. “You know, you could just fill me in on your plans ahead of time instead of constantly playing these little games with me.”

“What would be the fun in that?” Riddle replied with a smirk. “Anyway, you’re not a good enough actress. It had to be convincing.”

“How did you even know he would be here at this exact time?”

“Fudge never goes straight home after work. He usually pops into the Atheneum for a few drinks, but he always goes back to the office lobby to wait for his driver – I suspect his wife has asked the chauffeur for reports on her husband’s whereabouts. He sometimes goes for a walk instead, but I was betting this was a drinks night.”

“Right. Brilliant.” This was just another reminder how much more experienced than her he was at surveillance and deception. He still unnerved her, but she was glad to have him on her side. 

Riddle looked at his watch. “It’s getting late. I should get these to Grindelwald right away,” he said, patting his bag. “And you should get some sleep.”

Hermione watched him walk away, over the bridge and into the distance. She tried to clear her mind on the way home, but the feeling of his hand on her face lingered.


End file.
